


no holding back

by johnnyfucksup



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, That's it, brave ram, here we go again, how to tag? it's really gay, overthinking king, that's the humour, two really bad puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24849181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnyfucksup/pseuds/johnnyfucksup
Summary: “Do you know how hard I have to hold myself back every time I’m close to you?”“Then don’t.”
Relationships: King/Ram (My Engineer)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 311





	no holding back

**Author's Note:**

> here, take it, take it away (i've worked so long on this, i dont even know)  
> i seem to always end up at the tent scene. but now it's been directed by my, motherfuckers.  
> (i actually wanted to make it... more smutty, but oh well. maybe there's a chance of a second chapter if you're thirsty)

“I won’t leave until you tell me why.”

Kind had imagined how he would handle this exact situation, dozens of times, sometimes not even while being awake. He had been mentally preparing himself for this moment, had steeled himself, had tried to get ready for Ram’s questions. 

Because, of course Ram would know that _something_ was wrong, that King was acting strange _because_ of him (everyone noticed), and of course he would want to know _why_. King didn’t plan on telling him why, though, not if he still had other options.

He had planned a rant on why Ram had to stay away – preferably without telling him the truth on _why_ exactly –, all laid out in his head, a rhetorical masterpiece, with several back-up plans. One of which included him literally running away.

He couldn’t run away, though. Not when they were in this stupid tent; Ram would’ve gripped his arm before he could stand up properly.

King also had envisioned on how Ram would react; had envisioned how Ram would turn away in disgust, or a gentle rejection, or, most probable, a completely wordless goodbye.

King had so many scenarios in his head, so many possible outcomes, but they all ended with him crying in the shower. 

At this point, he worked through the list in his head, mentally crossing out everything that didn’t work, rapidly coming to the end of it, because Ram 

~~1) ignore ram (don’t even look at him)  
2) no skinship! (even if you want to)  
3) also never let ram touch you (even if you have to pull away aggressively)  
4) avoid ram  
5) be annoyed, angry, aggressive if you have to  
6) push him away  
7) push him away physically~~  
8) run away  
9) tell him ( _last fucking straw_ )

– because Ram kept on pushing and pushing, and always getting up again getting into his space, and _pushing_.

“Do you know how hard I have to hold myself back every time I’m close to you?”

“Then don’t.”

Well, didn’t that backfire spectacularly. 

He could only blink at Ram for a moment, opening and closing his mouth a few times, confused and bewildered, and still so drunk, he thought that he must be hallucinating. (Ridiculous, you couldn’t possibly hallucinate because of whiskey, but King honestly considered it.)

As the words finally came through, he couldn’t help but thinking he was going crazy. His friends often called him crazy, because he talked to his plants and called them his _plant babies_ (he could never tell them that every plant and flower in his dorm had a name), and because he liked to sleep on the balcony some nights, and yes, maybe he was kind of crazy, but now he felt like he was going clinically insane.

Ram couldn’t possibly mean what he just said. Did he mishear King? King believed to have spoken loud and clear – maybe louder than necessary –, even managed to keep the drunkenness out of his voice. Or had this stupidly attractive and antisocial boy misunderstood what _holding back_ meant?

Apparently, he was taking too long to react, because Ram placed his hands on his face – and, wow, if that wasn’t the happiest and most confusing moment of King’s life –, ripping him from his absolutely irrelevant train of thought. Train wreck, more accurately.

“P’King, what are you holding back from, exactly?” King almost missed the whispered words, which was ridiculous, as Ram was close – too close for King to think –, almost brushing their noses together. So close, in fact, that King could _feel_ the breathed words against his face. Almost more than he heard them. 

But he didn’t miss the whispered – breathed – words, because, yes, there it was. Ram didn’t _know_ , how was King supposed to process this piece of information? (How was he supposed to _explain_?)

“What I’m holding back from?”, now King was fired up again, or no, he was _angry_ that he had to spell it out for Ram, even though it had taken everything he got to tell him the first time. Now he had to embarrass himself, humiliating himself, just because Ram didn’t know. At least he wasn’t shouting anymore (he’d actually rather text Ram the following few things, but he didn’t, he had been a coward long enough).

“I always have to force myself away from you, especially when you’re _close_ , and it hurts, having to pull back, to push you away. But I have to, I don’t want to scare you off with how much I want to be with you, I’m scaring _myself_.” Well, there were some words in it that hit too close to home, but no turning back now. 

“When you’re too close, just in reach, I want to do _things_. With you, to you, and I just…” King trailed off, shutting his mouth completely, trying to also shut his eyes, but Ram gave him a _look_ , and for the first time, King couldn’t decipher it. It looked a lot like _You’re annoying me, King_ and _King, you’re an idiot_ (yes, there were distinctive differences).

There was something flickering across Ram’s features, hardly noticeable in the dimness of the tent. As if he wanted to say something but then changed his mind. His eyes left King’s only for a second, but it was enough for King to know that something was going on in that beautiful mind of his. So, instead of saying the thing he initially intended to say, whatever it was, Ram said something else, “What kind of things?”

“Huh?”

“What kind of things do you want to do? With me, to me”, Ram clarified, stealing King’s words much to his dismay and embarrassement, and there was something _new_ in Ram’s eyes and written all over his face; something King had never seen before. 

“I…”, King was clearly missing something here. (King wasn’t used to be missing crucial information in any kind of situation. He was used to see, to understand, to solve. It would bother him, but his drunken mind could only concentrate on so much, so, a problem for another day.)

“Tell me.” And now Ram was caressing his face, his cheekbones, drawing soothing circles onto his skin, and _oh_. King started to understand. Not fully, but something started to click into place. (Ram’s hands on his face, Ram’s eyes on him, Ram’s closeness, Ram talking; it helped and hindered him to start understanding.)

“Maybe I want to hold your hand instead of you grabbing my arm, dragging me places? Lace our fingers together?”, King hated how small and uncertain he sounded to his own ears. It was honest, though, a thought he had often had when Ram would grab his wrist or his arm. He had never taken the leap, though; too scared of rejection, of heartbreak. 

“And?”, Ram used his one hand to push the hair out of King’s face – it immediately fell back into place, “Tell me more. I want to hear it.” 

While still holding his gaze, not a trace of insecurity and embarrassment apparent on his face, he had the audacity to _smirk_. Out of all their acquaintance, Ram had to fucking smirk _now_? 

Asshole. 

But King had started to understand mere moments ago, and two could play this game.

(Especially if one of the two was tipsy still. You didn’t call it liquid courage for no reason.)

“And…”, he decided in that moment that, _fuck it, fuck me, fuck everything_. King had nothing to lose anymore; the cat was let out of the bag; _Elvis has left the building_. So King swallowed down the doubt and the hurt and the fear for a change, and just let desperation and honesty and _want_ take over. “Maybe I want to kiss you.”

“Maybe?”, Ram asked, voice almost breaking, the determined stare almost wavering, _almost_ ; King wasn’t having it. 

“Oh, definitely. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, you have no idea.” King placed his hands on Ram’s thighs to support himself while leaning closer until his lips almost brushed against Ram’s ear. Almost, but not quite (yet). “Kiss you all over.”

This made Ram shiver, all over, and it sent a new wave of courage through King’s body. 

“Then why don’t you kiss me?”, this boy still had the nerve to act cocky, tried – and almost succeeded – to overplay his own uncertainty from moments ago, even though he had never had a girlfriend – or boyfriend – or anything, really. (King might’ve talked to Duen and Phu and Ting and Tang, and might’ve gathered some information on that matter. For research purposes, of course.)

Ram was looking at him both expectantly and anxiously, and that was when it hit King: he hadn’t been the only one overthinking and contemplating and _wondering_. 

“Because I’m scared that I won’t be able to stop and scare you off”, and, whoops, maybe that had been a little bit too true, too real; the playfulness from a few moments ago vanished. King’s voice was thick with worry, uncertainty, and he felt small in Ram’s hold, under Ram’s gaze, in Ram’s space.

And Ram noticed, he always did. His hold on King’s face got just a tiny bit firmer, but still oh so gentle, securing him, grounding him. Being there, close, giving him the time and silent reassurance he needed. 

“Have you asked me if I’d be scared?”, and, wow, King didn’t know that Ram had all those words and questions in him. Soft and careful, barely a whisper, but sharp, getting to the point straight away. 

King shook his head. No, he’d never asked. 

“How do you ask someone if they would be put off by you kissing them senseless?”, King replied. It took him all he got for the question to sound genuine and not dripping with sarcasm. 

“With words, probably”, okay, Ram needed to stop being clever and cute _right the fuck now_. “Ask me now.”

Now, Ram had been surprising King with his words since the very beginning, but that had to take the cake. King literally choked on _air_ , turning his face away from Ram, bringing some distance in between them (Ram only frowned at him, but King didn’t want to cough into his face, his mother had raised him better than that).

After the coughing fit had calmed down, King just stared. Because, this was not happening. Right? It couldn’t be. This whole mess of a situation was just ridiculous. But Ram was looking at him, waiting for him to speak up, clearly not joking about his request. 

It could only go uphill from here, right?

“Cool Boy, would I scare you off if I kissed you senseless?” (If King was actively avoiding eye contact, it was only his business alone, okay.)

“I don’t know”, okay, that managed to gain King’s attention. That, and the returning playfulness, almost challenging in King’s ears. “But there’s a way to find out.”

If this would turn out to be a cruel cosmic joke, King would take advantage of it. And if it was a dream (that was still a possibility in the back of his head), then he really hoped he wouldn’t wake up for a while. Because he knew an invitation when he heard one. 

Without blinking an eye, without thinking further – fuck thinking, it only hurt him –, he practically lunched forward, gripping Ram by the neck and crashing their lips together. Quite literally. King had kind of miscalculated the distance between them but that wasn’t a problem, as Ram managed to catch him. 

(In that moment, King was pretty sure that Ram would always be there to catch him.)

xx.

The initial kiss – or, well, the initial _pressing lips against lips with too much force_ – only lasted a few seconds. Even though Ram held King steady, their teeth still bumped, and King was pretty sure that he bit his own lip, or maybe Ram’s, but that wasn’t important now. 

King murmured a hasty _sorry_ against Ram’s lips before claiming them again, not giving the poor boy even a second to adjust. It must be uncomfortable, holding himself and King up, sitting on his knees, but King didn’t care. (He would apologize as soon as he could think straight again, but with Ram, thinking straight wasn’t really an option.)

He loosened his grip on Ram’s neck – only slightly, not wanting to leave bruises –, but still pulled him closer, not believing how he had lived without Ram in his space. Everything other than Ram ( _ramramram –_ ) felt surreal, far, far away, like another life, another time. 

But he didn’t care about anything outside the tent. Now, in this very moment, there was only Ram, and Ram’s lips on his, and Ram’s hands on his face – when had he taken hold of his face again? –, and then there was Ram’s hair between his fingers, and King just had to pull at it a little bit, and then _oh_ , the tiniest little sound.

Ram pulled back. 

Worry and anxiety and fear spiked through King. Only for a moment, though, because when he opened his eyes ( _what was wrong, what had he done wrong, what –_ ), all he saw was flushed skin, hot to the touch, as if Ram was running a fever. He was embarrassed. (And King was violently happy about it.)

“Cool Boy, _Ram_ , please give me more of that”, King groaned between kissing Ram’s forehead and his cheeks and his jaw. He could only feel the slight shake of the other’s head.

King wasn’t having any of that. He hadn’t even dared to imagine, to dream, and now that he got what he never took? A little bit of embarrassment wouldn’t stop him. 

He somehow still had the mental capacity to realize, _Ram liked his hair being pulled?_ , which lead him to, well. Bite Ram’s neck, nibbling right on the sensitive skin under his ear. Right where the dreamcatcher tattoo was sitting. 

Ram moaned. Quietly, clearly trying to stifle it in King’s shoulder, but he heard it clear as a bell. 

King wanted more. Needed more. More of these sounds, more of the trembling under his hands, more of _Ram_.

But Ram needed to want it as well. 

Not without a soft trail of kisses up to Ram’s face, King finally tore himself away (never had anything been that difficult in his life). He should’ve had mentally prepared, but he didn’t, because even if he had, he wouldn’t have been ready for the sight: beautiful, sweet, cool Ram all flushed, hair ruffled, lips slightly reddened. King couldn’t even swallow properly. But he needed to make sure, needed to concentrate.

“If you want to stop, we have to stop now. If not, I will probably kiss you until sunrise”, the words fell out of King’s mouth, stumbling over each other on the way out, but he had to say it, he needed Ram to _know_. That he was safe with King, and that he actually would stop, of course he would stop, he wouldn’t take what he hadn’t been given, and Ram needed to know. 

“I told you not to hold back”, how Ram managed to still sound relatively collected was beyond King, but he didn’t miss the breathlessness of his words. “And I could and would stop you if I couldn’t handle it anymore. It’s just…”

Words failing Ram had never been a problem for King; King didn’t need any words or explanations. He just nodded in understanding, catching Ram’s eyes and placing the world’s softest kiss onto his nose. 

“It’s new for me too. The feelings, the kissing, all of it”, King added with a small gesture between them. “But we can figure it out together. How does that sound?”

“Will _figuring out_ include more kissing?”

This boy really had a nerve. (And King really liked this boy.)


End file.
